Wanted

by Diana Fraser

  Taina couldn’t remember the last time she’d made the crossing alone. But she hadn’t forgotten what to do, how to operate the boat, how to glide it carefully into position at that part of the quay that had belonged to her family—a couple of miles from where Daidan preferred to keep his boats. The family quay was on the island of Katajanokka which was separated from the city of Helsinki by a narrow canal. It was here, amongst the grand old buildings, the awe-inspiring Uspenski Cathedral, and the leafy parks, that her mother’s warehouse was situated. She needed to go there to pick up some design work. But that wasn’t the only reason. She simply needed to go there—to make peace with her mother, and her past.

  After docking, with the help of a couple of surprised waterside workers, she jumped up onto the quay. With no bag, just the keys to the boat and The Warehouse and her wallet slipped in her pockets, she walked toward her mother’s warehouse. It was still early so the place was deserted. The summer holidays hadn’t begun in earnest so visitors were few and far between.

  She walked past beautiful nineteenth-century stone buildings, painted in the softest of chalky hues—lemon, blue, brown, ochre—all blending together, making this historic area also one of the most picturesque in Helsinki. The trees that lined the wide street were heavy with new leaf and barely moved in the still air. It was going to be a hot day—and a humid one. She continued walking a block until she arrived at the quarter where The Warehouse was. With the sea on one side, and a large park on the other, the historic red-brick warehouse and its neighbors stood in a prime position. The other warehouses had also been converted into restaurants, business centers and hotels. Normally there was a buzz about the place but now, with so few people around, Taina looked upon it with different eyes. She stopped under the shelter of the trees and looked up at its age-softened façade with its beautifully proportioned, arched windows. She lifted her gaze higher to the topmost window into which the early morning sun was shining. She pictured the sunny window seat on the other side where she used to sit and watch her mother draw by the light of the window on the northern slide of the building.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the building from this angle. She always arrived by car, sweeping up the boulevard and being deposited directly outside. It seemed strange from this perspective. A shiver ran down her spine. She stepped forward to cross the street and then hesitated. She’d go to the hotel and grab a coffee before she went inside.

  As she entered the hotel a slither of unease ran down her spine. She stopped for a moment and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She used to come here often and the staff greeted her with their usual warmth. She shrugged. She must be imagining things.

  She continued on her way to the rear of the hotel where there was a small but exclusive café. After she placed her order she looked around, suddenly aware of the different accents and languages. In this quarter of Katajanokka, the pattern of industry had continued from the old days with a polyglot of import and export industries with nations from around the world. The Warehouse had been at the center of all this industry and so she was used to conversations being carried on around her in different languages and had become skilled in a few of them. But Russian, she’d never learned beyond the basics. And it was Russian she could hear now.

  She turned and glanced at the group of men who were speaking in a low murmur. Even if she could understand Russian they were too far away for her to hear. The man in the group who was obviously in charge, sat back quietly as he listened to the other two men talk, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at her.

  She turned away instantly. She was used to men looking at her, but not like that. There was no admiration in his eyes—they were too cold but still intent. He looked… dangerous. The word popped into her mind and sent a chill down her spine. She took the coffee and cake and, without turning back, walked quickly through the hotel and back into the sunshine.

  She walked briskly to her building, and around the back, using the old key to unlock the black metal grille, before raising it and punching the security code into the keypad. The grille and key were effective but the warehouse also had state of the art security.

  She closed the door firmly behind her and rolled her shoulders which she suddenly discovered were tense. She looked around the showroom. She felt inclined to stay there in the safety of the displays and computers, let the beautiful surroundings bathe over her like a warm balm. But that wasn’t what she was here for.

  Instead she walked to the rear of the showroom and up the old staircase that led to her mother’s room. The morning sun slanted through the high arched windows and criss-crossed over the dark jewel-like colors of the rugs that were strewn over the waxed floor boards. Dust motes floated lazily in the warm air. Her mother had always been able to create a home from a building and her loyal staff had changed very little in the ten years she’d been gone.

  She glanced toward the doors at the rear of the studio. They were firmly closed. She breathed a sigh of relief and walked around the room, picking up pieces, examining them and remembering why they had been special to her mother, before placing them carefully back where she’d found them. She could feel something of her mother there, but not in a menacing way anymore. She didn’t know what had changed, but something had. Something in her had changed, she suddenly realized.

  It was no longer solely her mother’s studio, it was now also hers. She felt she shared it with her mother. She might never fully come to terms with her mother’s death but, by working on the same pieces, she’d found some kind of acceptance for what had happened. She stood by the door, looking around, waiting for the familiar feelings to overwhelm her. But they didn’t come. They were there, she knew, still lurking at the back of her mind, but she could control them, they didn’t swamp her like they had before.

  She looked across to the window seat but she wasn’t tempted to retreat there like she’d always done. This time she walked over to the plan chest that stood behind her mother’s desk and rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for. She withdrew the painting and placed it on the desk and smiled. Then she took the carefully folded sketch she’d tucked into her jacket pocket and smoothed it out on top of the painting. She’d gotten it right. She’d remembered every detail.

  With her finger she traced around the lines of the joined initials of her mother’s and her name, entwined together. Her mother had been working on the design before she’d separated from her father. A kielo—lily of the valley—the Finnish national flower which her father had bought her mother every day until they’d grown apart. Stylistically it was simple—the delicate cluster of white blossoms shaped like tiny bells wrought from platinum and gold, complementing and highlighting the diamonds Taina had chosen for it.

  She felt closer to her mother than she’d done since she’d died, standing alone in her studio. Working on the initial drawings her mother had left behind, continuing the thought and flow of the design to its natural conclusion, she felt a connection with her spirit, understanding her mother’s aim, where the unfinished lines should go. She realized that, if it weren’t for Daidan, forcing her to work on the collection, she’d always have avoided it. And she’d never have made that connection with her mother.

  After a while Taina held the sketch up to the light as she tried to figure out if she’d got the detailing right. Narrowing her eyes, she inspected the placement of the diamonds and smiled slowly, nodding to herself as she scanned outward to the platinum settings and further to the span of platinum and gold pieces that held it in place. They looked as fragile as gossamer. But they’d be as strong as the diamonds itself. The stylistic influence of her mother was there, but there was something of her, too.

  Taina set to work again. The minutes drifted by until she lost track of the time she’d spent there. It was only when the room dimmed that she blinked and looked around. The sky had clouded over and the light had changed in the room. But it wasn’t that that had disturbed her. She
could distinctly hear someone moving around downstairs. She froze and her mind immediately returned to the encounter earlier with the Russians in the hotel. She must have forgotten to secure the alarm. She looked around, remembering with a paralyzing fear another time she’d been trapped in a room at the top of a flight of stairs with no way out. She couldn’t let that happen again.

  She stepped quietly, avoiding the creaky floorboards, to where the tools were. She picked up a small sharp hammer used for piercing metal and walked behind the door and raised the hammer. This time she’d defend herself.

  The door swung open and nearly banged into her. “Taina!” Daidan’s voice echoed around the space. “Taina!” he called again and she could hear the fear in his voice.

  “Daidan!”

  He swung around. “Thank God, I’ve found you. My men went to the wrong wharf. Given your previous reaction, I didn’t imagine you’d come here. Anyway, what the hell were you doing behind the door?”

  “Protecting myself,” she said with a rueful smile. “I thought you were an intruder.”

  “I could well have been. It’s not safe for you to be here on your own.”

  “You’re obsessed with the idea that someone’s after me. It has to stop, Daidan. Now. I can’t live like this.”

  But Daidan didn’t answer. Instead, he stalked over to the window and peered out, being careful to hide behind the curtain so no one could see him. “Come here, Taina. Look out here. What do you see?”

  Puzzled, she did as he suggested and came up beside him and looked out. The beautiful buildings framed the trees in the park below, above which a cloudy sky held in the heat. There were more people walking around now, some of whom were tourists taking photographs. “It looks like normal. What am I meant to be looking at?”

  “Down there, partly concealed by the trees.”

  Her sweeping gaze stopped. There were two people smoking in a studied, nonchalant way. They glanced nervously toward the building from time to time. She shrugged. “So? They could be anybody.” But even as she spoke she felt uneasy. She recognized one of the men. He’d been in the hotel with the Russian group.

  “They’re not anybody, Taina. They’re Solntsevskaya Bratva, the Russian mafia. They’re part of the Kuzmich family who own the Chukotka mine.”

  “Kuzmich?” Then suddenly she remembered when she’d seen the man in the hotel. It must have been years before when he’d met with her father. She walked quickly away from the window. “Christ!” She sat down at the desk and held her head in her hands. “Christ,” she repeated. Then she shook her head. “But they have interests in businesses in Helsinki—probably here in Katajanokka for all I know.”

  “Yes, they have business interests and our business threatens theirs. Our new safety measures have made us popular with buyers and we’ve taken some of their market share. It’s also made their workers more demanding. Which does not make them very happy, to put it mildly.” He turned away from the window and turned to look at her. “Have you any idea what these people are capable of?”

  She shook her head. “You’re exaggerating. Surely all that stuff is made up by the media.”

  “No, it’s not. You’ve lived too long in a secluded world. It’s my fault. I didn’t want to worry you and protected you too much. It’s time you learned what we’re up against.”

  Daidan stood by the desk, hands thrust in his pockets while he spoke in short clipped sentences, describing in painfully clear language what exactly the Kuzmich family had been accused of doing over the past year, and what his contacts knew they’d done but which couldn’t be proven.

  At the end of the tirade, Taina shook her head, devastated by the risk she’d just run. “I had no idea.”

  “And then there’s Sahmir’s connection.”

  “What connection? What on earth has Sahmir to do with the Kuzmich family?”

  “Yes, well, I probably shouldn’t have kept you in the dark about this, either. But I didn’t want to worry you. Sahmir’s wife, Rory, got caught up in some bad business with Vadim Kuzmich, the son who died last year. He’d won Rory’s estate from her father in a gambling session, and then decided he wanted Rory too. If it hadn’t been for Sahmir he’d have had her too. It’s another point of contention between our family and theirs. Another reason to get back at us. Another reason why I thought they might try to target you.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you…” She trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to voice her doubts which seemed too stupid now, so disloyal, so naïve.

  “You thought I was controlling you because that’s how I wished you to be—under my control.” He shook his head. “Despite what it looks like, I’ve never wanted that. If I had, don’t you think I’d have gone looking for you after you left? No, I didn’t do that because I believed you needed time and space, time to grow up, time to realize that our love for each other would overcome everything. You think I’m controlling? My dear Taina, I’m not controlling enough, otherwise you’d never have left me, and I’d not have let you slip through my fingers on the island this morning.”

  She pressed her lips in regret and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing bad happened.”

  “Should we leave, now? Is it safe?”

  “It’s safe. What you didn’t see is my men who are watching over them.”

  “How long are we going to have this threat hanging over us?”

  “Just until the launch. My sources tell me that it’s the launch they see as easiest pickings. We’ll have our biggest, most important clients all in one place. If the Solntsevskaya Bratva can disrupt it in some way, then the whole thing could work against us.”

  “Should we postpone it? Move it to a different location?”

  “Any changes we make now will only play into their hands. Rumors will begin which we won’t be able to stop. Besides, our guest list has been carefully vetted and what other location is there that we can secure as effectively as the island? There is none. No, the date and place of the launch stays. We’ll ride it out until then.”

  “And after that?”

  “After that we’ll be in a stronger position to negotiate. We’ll come to an agreement with them—there’s no other way—but it’ll be on my terms.”

  She nodded and fingered through her drawings absently. He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, kneading them gently. “Don’t worry. Everything’s under control. No one will get to you. I should have told you before but I thought it’d scare you away.”

  “It does scare me, but”—she twisted around to look at him—“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running anymore.”

  “Good.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Now show me what you’ve been working on.”

  She pushed the papers over to him. “I’m happy with how it’s turned out. What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful.” He leaned over and traced his finger over its lines. “You’ve blended both your’s and your mother’s style to create one all of its own. It’s too late to make the piece for the launch, but we can use the designs themselves to showcase what’s coming in the future. Whet people’s appetite for next year’s collection. Show people what a great future awaits the company.”

  She grinned to herself but didn’t say anything, just turned her head to one side so he wouldn’t see how much his words meant to her.

  “Taina? Don’t you agree?”

  She nodded her head in agreement but still couldn’t say anything.

  “Taina!” He dipped his head and lifted her chin. “My Taina, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  The grin broke into a laugh, this time enjoying the note of possession in his words. “I’m thinking we both have a great future ahead of us.” She rose and kissed him. “Now, let’s get back to the island and sort out this launch. The sooner it’s over the sooner we can be free of all of this and get on with our lives.”

  In the early hours of the morning Taina cried out loud and awoke with a start. She
sat up, heart pounding, her night slip sticking to her back. She turned on the light and looked around. There was no one there. She was alone. She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. Of course she was alone. Daidan rarely slept more than a few hours and the man in her nightmares was far away and she wouldn’t be seeing him again. She’d always made sure they were never in the same city, even the same country, at the same time. She was safe.

  “Taina?” Daidan called as she heard his footsteps coming toward the bedroom. He burst open the door, hair wet, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. “Taina, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She looked him up and down and felt the thrill she always felt at the sight of him. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “Rarely. I thought I’d shower in the other bathroom so I didn’t disturb you and then get on with some work. Are you okay? I thought I heard you cry out.”

  She pushed her hair of her face and half-turned away, not wanting him to see her distress. “Just a nightmare. I have them from time to time.”

  “You had another one on the plane. You never used to have nightmares.”

  She glanced at him. “Yeah, well, times have changed.” She walked over to the window and opened the curtains, letting in the half-light of midnight. The scented air from the garden below mingled with the salty edge of the sea. She turned back to him and smiled. “But when you’re beside me I don’t have them. I feel a lot of things when you’re with me, but they don’t include fear. Are you going to stay a little while? Would you like a drink? A whiskey?” She went to the dresser and held up the decanter.

  “Why not?” He walked to the window where the castle ruins rose from the dark into the inky dusk sky. “Only a few days away now.”

  She brought over two drinks and handed him one. “Will you be relieved when it’s over?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m not good at all this marketing like you are.”

  She shrugged, looked at the whiskey which suddenly didn’t appeal, and set it on the table. “I don’t know if I’m good at it. Just seems people are interested in me because I’m a member of the Mustonen family.”